


La Princesse de la Lune

by Akycha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-07
Updated: 2011-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:57:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akycha/pseuds/Akycha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story came from a discussion about the probable results of a highly abused childhood topped off with a war, with no time to model healthy family interactions or relationships.  I do not write a great deal in this fandom, so I beg your indulgence of any little continuity errors; I did my best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Princesse de la Lune

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude/gifts).



It was three o'clock in the morning when she reached her parents' house. She opened the door, which of course unlocked for her, and stood for a moment in the dark and silent kitchen of the old house. It smelled of mashed potatoes and roast, with an undertone of old wool and woodsmoke. She paused, wondering if she dared feel relieved.

"Mum," whined Jamie, clinging to her pullover. "Mum, it's so dark. Where's Grammy?"

"She's in bed and so should you be," said Ginny, and adjusted the baby on her hip. "Come on, you two. Upstairs with the both of you and off to dreamland. You can see Grandma in the morning."

Al stumbled on the stairs and she scooped him onto her other hip. "Come on, into bed," she encouraged. "And Grammy will make you special breakfast in the morning."

The beds in the twins' old room were made up -- they always were, in a state of perpetual optimism -- and she propped the baby on the rocking chair and tucked the two of them into bed. Al was asleep before his head hit the pillow -- he was, after all, only three -- but Jamie clung to his mother's hands.

"When will Da come? It's all right, isn't it? He won't be mad about me?"

Ginny smoothed her son's hair. "Don't worry, Jamie. If he's mad, he'll be mad at me."

"I don't want him to be mad!" Jamie's voice raised hysterically and Ginny glanced involuntarily at her sleeping daughter on the chair. But Lily continued to sleep; she had always been a phlegmatic baby.

"Shhh," she told him. "It'll be all right. It'll be fine." She thought: I always swore I'd never lie to my children.

"But I don't want him to be mad," repeated James, almost in a whisper, after glancing at the baby himself. Ginny felt her heart squeeze at that.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I'll talk to him for you."

Jamie nodded and finally closed his eyes. Ginny continued to kneel by the bed, watching him sleep. Her knees protested when she stood up and collected Lily, still sleeping soundly, wrapped in her onesie and crib blankets. Ginny tucked the baby back into her snuggly-carrier and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Her mother was on the landing. "What--" Molly Weasley automatically kept her voice down to a piercing whisper-- "is going on? Are you all right?"

Ginny nodded. "Let me put the baby down," she said, and slipped past her mother into her own old room. The cradle which had held her and all her brothers had been installed at the end of her old bed. She laid Lily down in it and tucked her in, pausing for as long as she dared to touch her tiny but surprisingly strong little hands.

She sighed and went out to meet her mother.

In the kitchen, Molly Weasley was making tea. "What's going on?" she asked in something at least approaching a normal voice. "Did Harry have to take some dangerous mission? Don't tell me that something has happened to your house!"

"The house is fine, Mum." Ginny did not sit down at the kitchen table, as her mother clearly expected her to do.

"Then what on earth happened to send you and the children here in the middle of the night?"

"I've left Harry, Mum."

Her mother dropped the teacup she was holding. Ginny, who had expected this, caught it and gestured it to the table with a flick of her wand.

"Left him? _Left_ him! In the middle of the night, for a foolish lover's quarrel! How you can subject your innocent children to such proceedings is completely beyond me. I know I didn't raise you to--" Something in Ginny's grim expression must have done what she had known words would not, because her mother let the lecture die off and looked at Ginny. "It's not... it's not someone else, is it?"

The kettle shrieked and Ginny flicked her wand curtly at it to turn off the heat. She said nothing.

The silence stretched out until Ginny said, "I should have known you would ask that."

Perhaps to her credit, perhaps not, Mrs. Weasley did not flinch. "It's a natural question."

"If it were the case, I would be less... dramatic about it. No, Mum. There is no one else."

"Then why on earth--?"

Ginny suddenly felt immensely weary. "You can't guess?" She sat down and picked up the empty teacup. "No, of course you can't." She imagined she could feel the pressure of her mother's gaze, and didn't look up. "I left because of the way he treats the boys."

There was a long silence. Then, her mother said cautiously, "You can't just up and leave in the middle of the night, Ginny, because you have quarrels with your husband over proper parenting."

"Proper parenting? Proper PARENTING?" Ginny stood up with such force that the old kitchen chair slid back along the linoleum and crashed into the counter behind her. "He was locking James in a closet!"

She saw the expression on her mother's face freeze. "Are you sure?"

"Bloody _fucking_ hell!" Ginny slammed one hand down on the table and noticed, peripherally, the cup falling over. "It was in my own _house,_ Mum. It was more than _once,_ Mum. Yes, I bloody well am sure about this, and I am not standing for it."

"I'm sure Harry just needs a little help and support," said her mother, wringing her hands. Ginny wondered whether that was a conscious or unconscious gesture. "Some people need a little help with, with learning how to parent, you know."

"What he needs is to get off the damn bottle," growled Ginny. "I'm not going to discuss this in the middle of the night. I had to blast a hole in the wall of my house to get my son out of a closet where he had been locked _for fourteen hours_ by my husband, who applied Auror-level seals to the door. I got out of there with nothing but the clothes on our backs and I am not sure we are _ever_ going back. Now I am going upstairs, and I am going to sleep. Good _night,_ Mum."

She turned and left the kitchen. Her mother said nothing as she went up the stairs.

A little while later, while Ginny sat by Lily's crib, watching her sleep, she heard her mother come up the stairs. The footsteps paused outside Ginny's bedroom door, but then went on down the hall.

***

The Ministry arrived at 10:30 precisely. Ginny thought that she might as well be grateful that they hadn't arrived during breakfast, which had been awkward enough without them. If it hadn't been for the resolute cheerfulness of her father -- always delighted to see his daughter and grandchildren -- breakfast would have been truly dreadful, despite the pancakes and sausage.

Al and Jamie were chasing each other through the vegetable garden (now mulched over and covered with drifts of dead leaves) and Lily was crawling across the living room floor when the front doorbell rang. Ginny went to answer it, since she expected that the visitors were there to see her.

She had expected Ron, perhaps, dispatched a little in advance of his lunch break, or one of Harry's Auror friends. She had not expected an official delegation from the Ministry, including her elder brother Percy in his position as Senior Secretary to the Minister of Magic.

"Mrs. Potter," said a rather scrawny wizard she did not know by sight. "I am Mr. Nobbs, and this is Mrs. Gilda-Carrot. Your brother of course you know. Mrs. Gilda-Carrot is the head of the Publicity Office. We are here in consequence of--"

Ginny waved a hand impatiently. "Percy, can you get to the point?"

Mr. Nobbs looked affronted. Her brother cleared his throat. "Ginny, we're here to let you know that the Ministry is taking this step of yours very seriously indeed."

"Seriously enough to make Harry dry out?"

She could see Mrs. Gilda-Carrot stiffen with indignation out of the corner of her eye. She turned her back on the delegation and went to pick up her daughter, who was apparently attempting to get under the couch. Ginny didn't want to think about what Lily might see under there.

Percy took a deep breath. "The Ministry believes that it would be -- painful --"

"Damaging," put in Mr. Nobbs.

"Inappropriate," added Mrs. Gilda-Carrot.

"For the public to know about the -- troubles that Harry is going through. He is an important symbol of our most triumphant -- our most important triumph over evil, as, as -- of the magical community's triumph over evil as a whole."

Ginny stared at her brother. This did not seem to help. Percy went on, "So we believe that for our society to lose faith in, in him -- in him as a symbol of the essential goodness of the Wizarding world would be a catastrophe of the greatest t -- of the greatest magnitude. So it is very important to us that this be--"

Ginny interrupted. "I'm not going back. You can't ask that of me. Not after what he did to the children."

"We are not here to render judgment on your allegations about what he may or may not have done in regard to your children," said Mrs. Gilda-Carrot, with a sniff. "Regardless of what may or may not have happened--"

Ginny said evenly, "You're very lucky that my daughter is here," as she shifted Lily onto her other hip and gave her a set of keys to play with.

"Excuse me?" asked Mrs. Gilda-Carrot.

"Because if she weren't," said Ginny, still in a conversational, pleasant tone, "I would hex whatever fecal matter you use for brains so far out of your skull that you would he hard put to find enough motivation to blink your eyes for the next twenty years."

"Ginny!" said Percy, as Mrs. Gilda-Carrot said, "Well, _really!_ "

"I don't see why the Ministry would come here just to insult me," continued Ginny, still quite conversationally. "So spit out your nasty-minded little business and get out, all of you."

Percy flushed, whether from embarrassment or anger she could not tell. "We're here to inform you about the story which must be given to the public to explain your absence from the family home."

"Yes?" asked Ginny. "Already? Oh, I see. Harry went on one of his little rages at work, didn't he?"

Mr. Nobbs sniffed. "We have decided to tell the public that you have decided to leave him--"

"True, so far," said Ginny, putting her squirming daughter back down on the rug and absently charming it not to let the baby crawl off. "Will wonders never cease."

Mr. Nobbs looked, if possible, even more offended, " _Because_ you have a lover."

Ginny put her hands on her hips and stared at the three of them. Only her brother had the grace to look abashed. "And you expect me to go along with this lie -- a lie which clearly casts me in the wrong -- for what reason?"

Mrs. Gilda-Carrot sniffed. "If the good of the Wizarding World doesn't convince you, I suppose mentioning that we will be doing everything in our power to make sure that--"

Percy interrupted. "I'm sure that you can see that this is for the good of everyone, Gin. It won't do anyone good to, ah, air dirty laundry as it were. And the Ministry will of course handle things for you."

"What kinds of things?" asked Ginny in a low, level tone which for some reason made two of them (Percy and Mr. Nobbs) take a step back.

"Er," said Percy. "The Ministry will be happy to deal with all the matters of troublesome publicity for you. And you will, of course, have an allowance..."

"Really," said Ginny, putting a period on the end of it.

"You _ought_ to be _grateful,_ said Mrs. Gilda-Carrot.

"I'll consider it," said Ginny. "Now, if you please, this isn't my house and it's terribly rude of me to have visitors in the living room. If you have any further need to communicate with me, you can write. You're good at that, at the Ministry."

***

A few days after that, at the dinnertable, her mother said, "So, Ginny, when do you think you'll be going back?"

There was a pause. Ginny glanced eloquently at the boys, both of whom (of course) had stopped eating their ice cream long enough to listen, wide-eyed. She flicked a reproachful glance at her mother.

Her mother pretended not to notice. "You can't stop here forever, although of course we love to have you stay!"

"Mum?" asked James, chocolate ice cream dribbling down his shirt-front. "Mum, when are we going home?"

There was an appalling silence, then Ginny leaned over and wiped his face with her own napkin. "I don't know, sweetling."

Jamie's face crumpled up and Al, the ever watchful, flung his spoon on the floor preparatory to breaking out in three-year-old's lamentations.

Her father jumped up from the table and said, "Why don't you boys come out to my shed and I'll show you a movie on the Mugglevision!"

Al clapped his hands and Jamie, diverted, said, "A real movie? Popcorn?"

"Popcorn! Want popcorn!" declared Al, smearing ice cream all over that end of the table. His Grampa scooped him out of the chair with a grand disregard for chocolate stains and put him on his shoulders.

"Me next, me next!" shouted Jamie, sliding from his chair and following them out of the room.

Ginny folded her hands and looked at her mother. Her mother, avoiding her gaze, started clearing the plates off the table.

"So you think I should go back and let my children be raised in their bedroom closet?" asked Ginny, after it became clear that her mother, having gained a victory in the first round, was not going to initiate a second.

"Oh, _Ginny!_ " said her mother, spinning around with her hands full of plates. She flung them in the direction of the sink, and several pots scrambled out of the way as the plates sailed towards the soapy water. "I didn't think you were so unforgiving!"

"I didn't know I was supposed to forgive abuse of my children." Ginny noticed that one of the plates, having missed the sink, was lying forlorn on the kitchen floor.

"They're his children too!" Her mother shook the spoon she had used to serve the bangers and mash at Ginny, then made an annoyed sound when a bit of potato flew out and hit the table. "Don't you think he deserves a chance to do better?"

"I've given him his chances, Mum," said Ginny. She stood up. "Do you honestly think that was the first time he'd shut one of them in the closet?"

Her mother was silent, angrily gesturing silverware and glasses into the sink.

"That's only the latest thing. He yells at them if they cry. He doesn't let them eat--"

"It's a perfectly normal punishment, sending a child to bed without supper." Her mother flicked the tablecloth off the table onto its hook. The candles went flying to their shelf, extinguishing themselves on the way.

"Mum, Jamie is _four._ And it wasn't just that. It's making him go an entire day without meals, and he sets a ward on the kitchen to make sure I don't 'contravene his authority.'" Ginny's voice wavered. "Jamie's already taken to hoarding food under his bed. And at the dinner table he refuses to eat and looks at his father to see if he approves."

Her mother sniffed. "I think you're reading too much into this."

"I'm reading too much into it?" Ginny flicked her fingers at the sugarbowl, which sizzled slightly. "He punishes them for every little thing. It's like he expected them to emerge from the womb with perfect manners and brilliant genius into the bargain." Ginny glared at the sugarbowl, which was beginning to exude the scent of caramel. "'NO son of MINE is going to grow up to be a COWARD,'" she imitated. "Three year olds cry! It's what they do! So do four year olds and one year olds!"

"Maybe," said her mother, with her back to Ginny and standing very stiffly, "He just needs a little understanding."

"Maybe," said Ginny to her mother's back, "I'm not willing to risk my children with an alcoholic abusive prick who apparently has a free ticket from everyone to take out his... _issues_ on any helpless person around him. Including my children."

Her mother spun away from the sink, dropping the heavy ladle she was washing. Ginny, already on her way up the stairs, heard it fall onto the plate on the floor with a final crack.

***

Ginny was coming downstairs from putting the boys down for their nap when she heard Hermione's voice in the living room. Steeling herself and settling Lily on her hip, she went down.

It was only Hermione, though, speaking to Mr. Weasley through the fireplace. "Oh, Ginny!" she said as Ginny stepped into the living room. "I was just asking about you."

"I'll talk to you later, Hermione," said Ginny's father, stepping out.

"I'm doing all right," said Ginny, setting Lily down on the rug. Lily immediately crawled to the edge of the rug, trying to get off it. She started ooching around the edge like an inchworm, apparently looking for a hole in the charm.

"Where are the boys?" asked Hermione.

"Napping," said Ginny. "I've managed to get the two of them to nap at the same time, but I don't think any power on earth is going to get all three down at the same time, except in the dead of night."

"I hear you," said Hermione. "Look, I'm on my lunch, mind if I come over?"

"Come on through," said Ginny, and offered a hand to Hermione as she stepped through the fireplace.

Hermione politely dusted herself off on the hearthrug before stepping into the living room. She grinned at Lily's determined exploration of the rug. "She's got it all figured out, doesn't she?"

"That's more than I do. Sit down. Can I get you anything?"

"No thank you." Hermione sat on the couch and Ginny sat cross-legged on the rug, offering Lily some of her toys as she crawled around.

"Are you really doing okay?" asked Hermione after a moment.

Ginny blinked at her in surprise, then managed a wavery smile. "Yes. We're-- surviving."

"Ginny, I don't mean to pry--" Hermione stopped, sighed, and then said, "Well, actually, I do mean to pry. What really happened? You can't possibly expect people who know you to believe that you've got a secret lover stashed in a cupboard somewhere."

Ginny snorted. "No. That's what the Ministry decided to tell people."

"That's what I thought, but no one will tell me what really happened, and Ron can't get it out of Harry -- all Harry says is that you left. What happened?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "You're not going to believe me."

Hermione frowned at her, leaning forward. Ginny had a sudden vision of Hermione fifty years in the future, in full judge's robes, leaning over a bench. She would look good with those handsome carved lines bracketing her mouth.

"Try me," said Hermione.

***

Hermione rubbed her forehead. "I... should have known."

"How _could_ you have known?" asked Ginny, rubbing her eyes on her sleeve. "He's Perfect Harry Potter! Modest, unassuming, hero of the Wizarding World at age eighteen!"

"Well," said Hermione, "wouldn't that be why?"

"I don't follow," said Ginny. In her lap, Lily sniffled and started to look sleepy. She rubbed her daughter's back.

"Look, he's never had... a real model for how to be a parent, right?" said Hermione. "He doesn't know what good parenting looks like..."

"He knows what bad parenting looks like," said Ginny grimly. "I would think he would try to stay as far away from that as he could."

Hermione sighed. "It's like this," she said. "Muggles say that abused children are... emotionally impaired, and they have to work on trying to fix that. Harry... hasn't. He was busy, er, with the whole Voldemort thing, and then you two got married right away, so he never had time for--"

"I didn't think you would make excuses for him, too," said Ginny to her knees. She was sitting with her knees up, cradling Lily between her legs and her belly, curled around her daughter. "I didn't think."

"I'm not-- Oh, _hell,_ I'm not trying to make excuses, Ginny. Honestly, I'm not. There are thousands -- probably millions," she added glumly, "of abused children all over the world who _don't_ grow up and abuse their own children. They 're horrified at what happened to them and wouldn't dream of inflicting it on their worst enemies. But for some... it's the only pattern they have."

Ginny took a deep breath, and was pleased when her voice was reasonably even. "It's not how my children are going to be raised."

Hermione was silent for a moment. "You understand that the Ministry would like for you to go back, right?"

Ginny nodded, stiffly. "I've gotten letters from them. My mother--" She took a breath. "We can't, you know."

Hermione stared at the fire. "No, you can't. Not with things the way they are now."

Ginny looked down at her sleeping daughter, curled and sucking her thumb, contentedly perched on the curve Ginny's belly made with her knees propped up. "My children are not going to be sacrificed on the altar of Harry Bloody Potter."

Hermione stood up. "No one should ask that of you." Their gazes crossed, and Hermione's mouth thinned to a line.

Ginny said, "Thank you for believing me."

Hermione, already stepping into the fireplace, replied, "You shouldn't have to thank me for that. I'm going to see what can be done."

***

"Where are we going, Mum?"

"Ireland."

"I don't wanna go to Ireland!" Jamie's face screwed up into a tight ball. "I don't wanna! It's so far away!"

"The moon is farther," said Ginny, pulling on his coat.

James sniffed. "Can we go to the moon next?"

Ginny laughed. "Maybe, someday. If we're all good. We'll go live on the moon in a moon castle. If we can find a way to get there."

"And Da will come live with us, right? And he won't be angry any more?"

"That's right," said Ginny, pulling on his mittens. "No one can be angry on the moon. It's too pretty."

"Moon!" shouted Al, who was waving his heavily-trousered legs up and down in an attempt to slide off his chair. "Moon, moon, moon!"

"Let's go to the moon!" said Jamie.

Ginny pulled on her heavy woolen cloak and shooed the boys outside in front of her. "Let's go," she said.

Her father was standing by the pile of their things. He pressed a small bag into her hands as she reached for the Portkey.

"Dad, you shouldn't," said Ginny.

"You're my only daughter," he said. "Take care of these three. Bring them back for Christmas, won't you?"

He kissed her on the cheek and went into the house before he could see her tears.

"Going to the moon!" shouted Jamie, running over to her small pile of luggage.

"Not nearly so far," she said, took Al by the hand, and activated their transport.

***

It was not nearly far enough. The little cottage was located outside a tiny village, whose inhabitants, it seemed to Ginny, had nothing better to do than to ask her where her husband was. After she lost her temper with the proprietor of the grocery store (she had to resort to Obliviating the man, which she did not regret with quite the force she might have if he hadn't said those things to her), she took to telling people that it was none of their business.

It was, after all, true.

There was a playground that she took the boys to, and a store that rented DVDs, which their grandpa had gotten them hooked on. Ginny put her foot down and refused to let them play more than one a day.

Their cottage had an overgrown garden, a stone wall which was probably older than the cottage, and electricity laid on. There were only two bedrooms, but that was not a current problem; Ginny transformed an old chair into a crib for Lily and placed it in her own room.

One evening just after she'd sent the boys to bed (she could hear them talking in their room, but she had a rule of letting them talk for fifteen or twenty minutes, and if they didn't fall asleep by then, she'd go in and shush them. She seldom had to shush them) the fire pinged. She flicked the lock on it and a brief vision of Hermione's face appeared, so she opened up the Floo and said, "It's nice of you to call."

"I hope I'm not interrupting," said Hermione.

"I just put the boys down," said Ginny. "I can hear them whispering."

Hermione laughed. "Ron is reading to Rose right now. I just wanted to let you know that I, ah, have been looking into things for you."

"Yes?" asked Ginny.

"And I'm not making much progress. Ginny, are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, there's a chance we can get him to change, Ron and I have been having him over and I think I've almost got him sold on the idea of therapy-- "

Ginny gestured impatiently. "Hermione, I know you mean well, but I think it's the only solution."

"Have you spoken with him or sent him a letter?"

"No," said Ginny. "A couple of strange owls have shown up, but I sent them about their business."

"I suppose that's for the best, given the press," said Hermione doubtfully. "It's been... pretty awful, really."

"I can imagine," said Ginny, who wished she hadn't.

"It's only going to be worse if you can get the Ministry to agree to your request."

"I know," said Ginny. "I don't care." She sighed. "I _do_ care, mostly for the children's sakes, but fortunately they're too young to know and this is a Muggle village. We don't get out much."

"All right," said Hermione, "Hand it through."

Ginny picked up a bundle of papers from the mantelpiece and knelt on the hearthrug to hand them to Hermione.

"I'll do what I can to keep it quiet, but you know the press will find out about it eventually. They've stuck to the Ministry like dogs after a bone, I swear."

"I'm sorry about the trouble," said Ginny.

Hermione waved a hand. "It's not --" she looked over her shoulder. "Coming, I just had to take this firecall. Ministry business. I have to go."

"Bye," said Ginny, but Hermione was already gone.

***

Winter was giving way to spring, and Ginny and the children were walking back from the park and playground when they found Harry Potter sitting on the doorstep of their cottage.

Ginny was pushing the stroller with Lily in it. Al and Jamie were walking (Al lagging a little behind), and when she came around the side of the cottage and saw that the doorstep was occupied, she stopped. Jamie ran up to look.

"Da? Is that Da?" he asked.

"Da's come?" asked Al.

Harry stood up slowly, and they approached. "Da?" asked Jamie again. "Da, have you come to live with us? You're not-- you're not mad, are you?"

Al, who was always a little quieter and more thoughtful than his brother, reached down into the stroller and took Lily by the hand.

Harry shook his head. "No, James, I'm not mad at you," he said. He reached down and ruffled James's hair. He looked up at Ginny, who looked back without smiling. "We need to talk," he said.

Ginny disliked that phrase. She always had. "Do we?" She looked down at the boys and said, "All right, get inside. There are cookies and milk waiting for you."

She picked Lily up and took the boys inside. Harry blinked when he tried to step inside the house and discovered that he couldn't.

Ginny put Lily down in her playpen and gave the boys their afternoon snack. "I'm going to be right outside, talking to your Da," she said.

"Can I talk to him?" asked Jamie. "I want to make sure he's not mad at me."

"I'll call you to talk to him when we're done," promised Ginny, and stepped outside.

The first thing Harry said was, "You warded the place against me."

Ginny said, "I _do_ have the sense of a hedgehog's flea."

Harry said, "I've known where you lived for weeks. I'm an Auror, you know."

Ginny just looked at him.

"What did I do?" asked Harry. He began to pace up and down the little paved walkway that led through the front garden of the cottage. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Ginny said, "You know what it is."

"I DON'T KNOW!" shouted Harry, then immediately quieted when he saw Ginny's face.

Ginny said, after a long pause. "You really don't know? You don't think that any decent mother wouldn't take her children away after you starved them and locked them in closets for fourteen hours -- I counted, Harry, I counted every _fucking_ minute until I was sure you were completely passed out -- and said it was for their own good? I think you do know."

Harry turned away. "I... I wanted to make sure that they did well. It's so important for them to grow up strong, to, to..."

"To _what,_ Harry? To do what? Are you going to manufacture another Voldemort, too, to make sure your sons -- or have you already picked out which one is the Chosen One? -- have as glorious a reputation as yourself?"

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Harry turned and flung something at the stone wall, which exploded.

Ginny said, evenly, "I'm glad the children are inside."

"Will you never _let up?_ Everything is my fault, isn't it? Everything is always. Bloody. My. Fault."

Ginny bit her lip, then said, "In this case, I believe I can safely say that your actions in how you chose to treat the children were entirely your fault."

"Well, I wouldn't have had to if you didn't baby them all the time!"

Ginny stepped off the front stoop of the cottage. "Harry. They _are_ babies. James is not yet five. They are _children._ They _should_ be babied. That is how children should be treated, and no, Harry, it is not the end of the world if a three-year-old cries sometimes."

Harry stared at her, and then turned and flung another blast at the wall. "They're going to be bloody pansies--"

"No," said Ginny. "They are going to be healthy human beings. Who did not grow up starving in a closet."

Harry raised his wand and Ginny stared at him, knowing full well that there was nothing she could do to stop him. Then he turned and flung himself back down the path.

She thought for almost a minute that he was leaving, but then he came back up the path, panting with exertion as if he had been running, although he hadn't been. "Is that it? You just don't love me any more? You can't love someone who, who--"

Ginny looked at him and pulled her light cloak closer, twisting it around her cold hands. "No, Harry. I don't. I can't love you any more. But it has nothing to do with that."

She could see that he didn't believe her.

***

Jamie and Al were a little shy when Ginny called them to the door. She went in and got Lily from her crib, where Lily -- always one to refuse to stick to a schedule -- was taking a nap. She propped the baby on her shoulder and stood in the doorway.

Al was saying seriously, "But, Da, I heard shouting. You really not mad?"

"I'm not mad at you," Harry reassured him. "I'm not mad at all."

"I have a paper dragon, want to see?" asked Jamie.

"Some other time," said Harry.

"Don't go," said Al, clinging to his robes. "Don't go."

"You only just got here," said Jamie, pleadingly. "I--" He looked up at his father, down at the ground, and gulped. He said nothing more.

"I have to go," said Harry. "I'll bring you presents when I come back!"

He Apparated at the bottom of the garden walk with a loud crack.

"I didn't cry, Mum," said Jamie. "D'you think Da was proud?"

Ginny smoothed her son's hair and pulled him against her side. "I'm sure he was," she said. "Let's go in, it looks like rain."

***

When Harry returned three days later, Ginny knew immediately that he was drunk. "Gin!" he bellowed from the front door. "Come out and let me in! By the hair of your chinny-chin-chin!"

James and Albus were just finishing their dinner and both looked up at her with wide, frightened eyes. "Go to your room," she said. "I'll clear up. Don't worry, everything will be fine."

She opened the front door to driving spring rain and Harry Potter on the doorstep, waving a handful of parchment and newspaper. "What's all this about anyway?" he demanded to know. "Came to see you, to fix things.... apologize... and you're still filing for, for..."

"I don't recall an apology," she said. "Harry, you're drunk. Go home and sleep it off."

"It's not home without you and the boys," said Harry. "Please come home. Please, I can't..."

Ginny sighed. "Harry, I can't. It's not possible. I'm sure you'd see that if you were sober."

"You're ALWAYS PICKING on me. I always have to be PERFECT for you," complained Harry, leaning on the doorknob with such force that Ginny feared it would break. "I'm never SOBER enough, never a GOOD ENOUGH father, how you can expect ANYONE to be perfect enough..."

"Oh, rubbish," said Ginny. "If you think that, there's no talking sense to you. Go _home._ " She attempted to shut the door, hoping that Harry would Apparate away rather than standing in the cold rain.

A line of explosive force tore through the front garden, throwing up the stones of the wall and blasting several limbs off the old apple tree. "I'm not going until I see my boys!"

Ginny yanked the door open and said, "I'm not letting you near them in that condition. Go _home,_ Harry."

"Let me in!" bellowed Harry, leveling his wand either at her or at the wards on the door.

Ginny looked down the length of the wand for the second time in three days and snapped. She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. "I made these wards," she said to Harry. "There's only one way you'll get them down."

Then she folded her arms and waited, her chin up, feeling the rain blowing in under the eaves soaking through her clothes.

Harry stared at her, wand extended. "You really," he said, wavering on his feet. "You would really."

"Yes," said Ginny. "They're my children. The question is, would you?"

Harry was too drunk to parse that for several minutes. Then he turned away, stumbling back towards the lane in the dark and the rain. Ginny thought he might have been weeping, but she wasn't sure.

She stood there for a few minutes more, thinking about what she had thought, but hadn't said: _And it's my life._

Then she went inside, and shut the door.

***

Rita Skeeter showed up precisely eight hours after Harry's last visit; Ginny could only conclude that he had been too drunk to take even elementary precautions. She sent the woman away in a cloud of hexes which charmed and amazed her eldest son, who kept practicing some of them (with a stick from the garden) for days afterward.

On the advice of Hermione, she moved; but three months later, when the divorce was finalized, the press discovered her address anyway.

It had not been a good day.

Ginny had left Jamie, Al, and Lily with Bill and Fleur for the day, not wanting to expose them to the publicity. Bill's support was lukewarm at best, but at least she could trust Fleur not to harrow their feelings about Harry the moment her back was turned.

She thought she was prepared when she walked into the Ministry in her carefully-chosen decent dark-blue suit of robes (Hermione had approved of it). She thought she was ready.

She was woefully wrong.

The press was ten feet deep, all shouting questions and with Quick-Quote Quills and Recording Charms at the ready. That was bad enough (after living for nine months in nearly total solitude) but their questions made it worse. They crowded around her as she walked across the enormous first floor of the Ministry, shouting directly into her face.

"Are you ready to reveal the name of your illicit lover?"

"What motivated you to have an adulterous affair? Were you having sexual problems with your husband?"

"Do you feel any remorse when you think of your children, of what you're done to poor Mr. Potter?"

Ginny finally reached the elevators, where the Ministry personnel were waiting. She noticed Hermione, red-faced with anger, among them; Hermione neatly cut her out from the reporters and ushered her into the elevator. When they were in the elevator, Hermione made several sweeping gestures with her wand and Ginny could hear the gasping, frying sound of destroyed spells.

 _"Vultures,"_ said Hermione with venom. "I'm so sorry, Ginny. That was a nasty trick."

Ginny nodded, not yet trusting herself to speak. Hermione brought the elevator to a halt with another wave of her wand. "Here." She offered Ginny a handkerchief and dampened it with her wand.

Ginny mopped her face. "It's all been like that?"

"No, not like _that._ They're just after _you._ " Hermione sighed.

"Any scandal will do, I suppose," said Ginny scornfully.

"It's worse than that," said Hermione thoughtfully. Ginny glanced at her, then straightened her robes. "How do I look?"

"Pale," said Hermione. "But that will do." She waved her wand again and the elevator delivered them to the Office of Magical Records.

Harry was there, of course, dressed in his Auror uniform. The Minister of Magic himself was there, along with a number of highly-placed people who worked in the department of Magical Law.

Rufus Scrimgeour nodded briskly to Hermione and gave Ginny a long, level look, to which she replied in kind. She nodded politely to Harry, who did not attempt to smile; she recognized the slightly greenish color of his skin.

Scrimgeour walked over to where Ginny and Hermione were standing and cleared his throat. "Before we begin," he said.

"This is somewhat irregular," said Hermione.

The Minister of Magic gave her an outraged look before continuing. "I wanted to let you know that your requests have all been met, Mrs. Potter."

"All of them?" asked Ginny, startled.

"Yes. The exceptional generosity--"

Ginny brushed by him and went over to where Harry was sitting. She leaned on the arm of his chair. "You're not contesting custody?" she asked.

Harry shook his head, looking pained.

Ginny picked up his hand where it lay limply on the armrest and pressed it. "Thank you," she said. "I don't know what else to say."

Harry looked at her directly for the first time. "I... I should thank you. I know... I should thank you. It's the least I can do."

Ginny pressed his hand again and retreated to her side of the desk.

After that, it was just signing papers.

***

The day after the divorce, when Ginny and the children had returned to their new small cottage in the north of England, Ginny was awoken at five in the morning by an unusual din on her front lawn. She got up, put on her robe and slippers, and checked on her children, who were all (for once) still asleep.

She looked out the front window and sighed. There were eight of them on the lawn in the front of the house. She checked the back garden and discovered five more. She took a quick shower, put on her clothes, and started to pack.

The boys were more interested in their visitors than in their breakfast. "Hex them, Mum!" said Jamie. "I wanna see you make them jump!"

Al peered over his milk. "Let's turn them all into _worms!"_

This idea amused the boys so much that it was all she could do to get them to finish their breakfasts, while Lily flung cereal and applesauce in the general excitement.

After some thought, she firecalled Luna. Luna appeared in the fire dressed in her forestry robes and looking pleased. "Ginny! How nice to hear from you. Do you know, we've identified a new unicorn subspecies. I was thinking of writing to you about it."

"That's lovely, Luna," said Ginny. "How is your friend Rolf doing?"

"Oh, we're lovely. We got married a month or so ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't know, Luna. I suppose my address has been hard to find. Congratulations!"

"Oh, don't worry about it. We just felt like getting married, so we eloped. Congratulations on your divorce."

It was always hard to tell about Luna, thought Ginny, but she sounds so sincere. "Thank you," she said. "I hate to intrude on your honeymoon..."

"Oh, you're not intruding. Rolf had to go to the Isle of Gibraltar, there's something unusual happening with the Chimera population there."

"Anyway, Luna," said Ginny desperately, "We're having a bit of trouble with the press. Can we impose on you for the afternoon?"

"For as long as you like!" said Luna. "Please, do drop by."

Ginny took her at her word.

***

"Is this the moon?" asked Al, as they stepped through the Floo.

It was certainly strange enough to be. The first thing Ginny saw after stepping out of the hearth was an enormous beech tree, easily fifty feet in diameter, encircled by a wooden staircase with Gothic accents which reminded her vaguely of Hogwarts. The floor was stone, which the tree's roots seemed to plunge directly into, and the tall fireplace they emerged from from was decorated with a cheerful carved pattern of cats and mice chasing each other.

Luna came to meet them with her usual vague smile. "Hello, Ginny. Hello, James, hello Al. Hello, Lily." She shook hands with each of the boys and then with the baby, who giggled.

"What a lovely house," said Ginny, trying to excuse the way both her children were gawking up at the tree.

"Thank you," said Luna. "I built it myself. The roof leaks, of course, but I suppose that's all the better for the tree while I happen to be away. I feel so lucky that I was here when you called. I only got back yesterday from Mongolia."

"Mongolia?" asked Al, his eyes wide. "Really Mongolia?"

Luna nodded, and James asked, with a hint of suspicion in his voice. "What were you doing in Mongolia?"

"I was living in a yurt and following the wild unicorn herds. There's a new subspecies I've just identified on the high steppes. I shall have to show you the photos. Oh, please put your luggage in here." She led them up the stairs -- which seemed fairly solid -- and into a room built between two sturdy branches. "I always wanted to live in a treehouse, didn't you? Anyway, this room doesn't leak. Much."

She gestured up the stairs. "And on the next branch is a room with hammocks in it, the boys might like to sleep there."

Jamie and Al instantly raced up the stairs to the next landing. Ginny said, "It's very generous of you to put us up with such short notice, Luna, I can't thank you enough--"

"Oh, please don't. I love having visitors, and I get them so seldom. I suppose it's because I live way out here."

"All the better," said Ginny, setting their scanty luggage down. "And hopefully the press won't find us."

"Is it anything my father could help with, do you think?" asked Luna, absently pulling back the curtains on the bed, which were gaily patterned with multicolored salamanders.

"I don't think so," said Ginny, with a sigh. "Mainly, I want them all to go away and leave me alone. It's like every reporter has suddenly turned into Skeeter, with a side order of bulldog."

"I think it's very strange, don't you," said Luna as she plumped up the pillows on the bed, "how people have such clear expectations about things. I mean, I know what I think a crumple-horned snorkack looks like, but I'm haunted by the fear that I _might have found one_ but not noticed just because it didn't look like the picture in my head."

Ginny blinked. Just then, Al called down the stairs, "Mum! I can't get in the hammock, it's too high!"

Ginny sighed and said, "I guess I should see to the boys' bedroom."

"Here," said Luna, holding out her arms. "I'll hold Lily for you. Good afternoon, Lily, it's so nice to see you again."

***

The bottom floor of Luna's house was vaguely circular and housed her kitchen, living room, library, and bath. (The bath, Ginny was pleased to note, had proper walls, which the other ground-floor rooms did not.) The house's bedrooms, study, owlery, greenhouse, and something Luna called a "crow's nest" were all built among the branches of the tree and reached by a series of staircases and oddly-joined walkways. Many of these latter rooms were above the rather high roof of the first floor, and thus had a view of the moor on which Luna's house was situated, and the forest in the distance.

Lily, who liked to get into everything, was particularly fond of the roots of the beech tree at the center of the house. Rounded, sinuous, and smooth, they were the perfect jungle gym for a toddler, and she spent hours crawling over them.

The boys adored Luna's house. Al, who had settled down to a seven-months pitched battle against baths, gave in without a murmur upon seeing Luna's bathroom, which had a circular bathtub with a fountain in the center. Jamie discovered that her kitchen garden was laid out in a maze and promptly managed to get himself lost in it not once, but several times, by crawling through it on his hands and knees. "Standing up," he told his mother solemnly, "would be _cheating."_

Ginny looked away as her son ran into the garden again to see Luna watching with a dreamy smile. "There's a trick to the maze, isn't there?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," said Luna. "But it's so much more fun for him to figure it out for himself, don't you think?"

Ginny and Luna were sitting in the living room when the call came in. Luna was sitting cross-legged on the large wooden swing covered with cushions which was her favorite seat; it was not directly across from the fireplace so she could not see who was calling. Ginny glanced into the fire and saw, instead of a face, the Ministry seal.

"It must be from the Ministry," she said, startled.

"How odd," said Luna, swinging gently back and forth. "Do you think it might be for you?"

Ginny's mouth twisted. "I think it must be."

"We can ignore it, if you like," said Luna, sorting through her unicorn observation notes.

Ginny sighed. "I think I had better not. Although I honestly cannot think what they want with me _now."_ She flicked her wand at the fire and said, "Beech House."

"Official call from the Ministry," said a pompous male voice. "Official call from the Ministry. Please stand by."

Ginny and Luna exchanged a confused look.

"Ginny? Ginny, are you there? This is Percy. I have to speak with you on some official Ministry business."

Ginny folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. "I can hear you. Go ahead and talk, Perce."

"Oh, you _are_ there! I can't see you."

"I'm too comfortable to kneel on a hearth and stick my head into the fire. What bad news has the Ministry got for me now?"

Ginny could hear Percy clearing his throat and shot a bitter smile at Luna, who was watching interestedly over her tattered notebook. "Ah, er," said Percy. "The Ministry has decided that you are probably in need of some special services, and to that end we have allotted you--"

"Wait, wait," said Ginny. "I thought the allowance ended with the divorce."

"Well, yes," said Percy uncomfortably. "But the Ministry has received some, er, dismaying communications, and in light of that, we have decided to fund a bodyguard--"

"A _what?_ " cried Ginny, nearly falling out of her chair. "What _for?_ "

"And other security measures for you and your children. In light of these communications."

Ginny said, "The Ministry's been receiving _threats?_ "

Percy replied, "Some of the communications have been of that nature, yes."

"To me and to my _children?_ "

"Well, er, mostly to you but some of them--"

Ginny leapt to her feet. "What the _hell_ are you all _doing_ about this?"

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is taking this very seriously, very seriously indeed. And we believe that you should have protection--"

"Bloody hell," said Ginny, pacing back and forth. "For the love of little green apples. I cannot _believe_ this. I'll talk to you later." She waved her wand at the fireplace, which clinked off in the middle of Percy's "Wait--!"

Luna continued to swing back and forth gently, regarding Ginny over a frill of parchment strips tucked into the pages of her worn, soiled notebook. "Would you like stuffed pumpkin for dinner?"

"Luna," said Ginny, "We can't stay here. May I borrow an owl?"

"Of course you may. I'll be sorry to see you all go." She set down her notes and drifted into the kitchen, absently knotting her hair up out of the way and tucking her quill into it. "Borrow Archimedes, he's familiar with Diagon Alley."

As Ginny sat writing to George, she wondered -- again -- just how perceptive Luna was.

***

Ginny had not wanted to live in London, but George pointed out -- persuasively -- just how big and anonymous it was, and how easy it was to get her a Muggle flat and set up a Portkey into the back room of their shop. After some complaint ( _Why didn't you write to me before? All my owls returned Unable to Deliver! Ginny, don't hold out on me!_ ) George was more than pleased to help her settle in.

He was somewhat less pleased about the security measures. "You'd think the Ministry didn't trust us," said George, looking at all the wards placed around the shop's office.

"You'd think that the Ministry didn't trust _me,_ " snapped Ginny, who was short-tempered from having interviewed potential bodyguards all that morning. They had all been insultingly young, male, and good-looking, and she had sent the last of them back to the Ministry with a flea in his ear. She sat down at the desk and rubbed her forehead. "Look, you've done so much for me, you don't have to employ me, too."

"Nonsense," said George, then added reflexively, "Stuff and. You're my sister, and when all's said and done--"

Ginny laughed a little, weakly.

"We stick by our family," said George. "That's the ticket. Now don't get weepy, Gin, that's dirty pool."

"You know I always play fair," said Ginny, with a shaky laugh. "Unlike _some_ people I know."

"Who could you be talking about?" asked George. "It sounds like you've been keeping some bad company, Gin. Stay with us, instead; we'll stick by you."

Ginny pretended not to notice the "us," but her eyes went to the portrait over the desk, which winked at her.

***

The Aurors who were finally assigned to work with Ginny and the children were quite young -- only a few months out of training. They had been sweethearts in school and had married right before entering Auror training together.

Ginny found it alarming how motherly she felt towards them, when she wasn't feeling downright cynical about the fact that they were there at all. However, they were both so extremely puppylike that it was, if not impossible to resent their presence, at least impossible to blame them for very long.

Matilda -- she insisted that Ginny call her by her first name, although she couldn't quite seem to break herself of the habit of calling Ginny "Ma'am," when startled -- usually accompanied Ginny to work and back, while Nigel kept an eye on the Muggle school where Ginny had the boys enrolled. Ginny joked about paying Matilda extra for her daycare services, to which Matilda always replied, seriously, that she'd never dream of asking for more than what the Auror Office was giving her.

Ginny was always very glad to shoo them off in the evenings, although they seemed to get on well with the children.

The morning It happened (she was always afterwards to think of the event as It) Ginny was in the back office of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, using a Calculating Quill on the account books. Lily, who had refused to go to sleep until past ten o'clock the night before, was sleeping as limply as only an exhausted two-year-old can sleep, on the rug behind Ginny's chair, her head pillowed on a plush stuffed dragon that was purring softly.

If Ginny _had_ spared a thought to where Matilda was -- which she probably hadn't that morning, the accounting was sufficiently complex -- she had most likely assumed she was out in the shop, checking the wards or doing other Auror-like things. A quiet murmur indicated that there were customers, but the shop wasn't packed; it did not usually get busy until the afternoon. Ginny ran her quill down a column of figures and checked it off.

When the door banged violently open, she looked up with a stern face, assuming it was George, rambunctiously eager to show her a new invention. However, it was Matilda, pale-faced and stammering.

"I have to go, Nigel's in trouble," she gasped, showing Ginny the watch she wore, on which the hand pointed to: _Emergency, Come At Once._

"Wait," said Ginny, feeling her face go numb with shock. "Isn't Nigel at the school?"

But Matilda was already out the door and running.

Ginny stood up, swept Lily into her arms, and ran out onto the shop floor. George was standing by the counter while a young witch in the characteristic bright robes of the business rang up a customer. Ignoring the stares of the clerk and the customer, Ginny interrupted George's "--and we guarantee satisfaction, or--" by thrusting Lily (still sleeping soundly) into his arms.

"There's something going on at the school. Take Lily someplace safe. Someplace safe!" she demanded. She stripped off her outer robe and thrust it into his arms as well; he took it, looking bewildered.

She stood there for a moment until she remembered the anti-Apparation ward on the shop, then she ran out of the front doors, into Diagon Alley, and was gone before her feet touched the bottom step.

***

It was awful. The fire department was there already; she couldn't see either Matilda or Nigel among milling crowds and surprising amounts of bad-smelling black smoke. Ginny never remembered this part of the event later with any sort of continuity: it always came back to her in snapshots-- the woman sitting on the curb of the road, her face in her hands; the stretcher with the tiny figure on it with the plastic mask obscuring his face; the lines of five-year-olds standing hand-in-hand and crying.

She may have been the first parent on the scene. She did not know -- she spotted Al's teacher (black curly hair pulled back into a ponytail) and sprinted over there to find her son, frightened but unhurt.

"Where's Jamie?" he asked.

She didn't answer, just hoisted him onto her hip, not noticing the weight, and set off again. If his teacher said anything, she didn't hear.

Jamie, like Al, was with his class, standing on the back lawn of the school and watching the smoke with big eyes. Ginny reached him and pulled him into a hug, which seemed to be the cue for several of his classmates to burst into tears.

Ginny was preparing to take the boys elsewhere when she saw the Aurors in the distance. That was good enough for her-- she managed to shoot Jamie's teacher an apologetic smile, and took the boys to the Ministry. The last thing she saw was a team of firefighters walking across the lawn towards a team of Obliviators, and she thought with rising hysteria that she hoped the firefighters won.

***

Ginny and the boys had been at the Ministry for about an hour when Harry showed up. Ginny wondered what on earth had kept him -- he must have been on an assignment somewhere.

They were sitting in an office -- she had no idea to whom it belonged -- wrapped in blankets and drinking rather bad chocolate. Harry picked James up off the rug to hug him, and then hugged Al, who was sitting on Ginny's lap.

Ginny noted with approval that even up close, he no longer had the distinctive scent of someone who spent his weekends on a bender.

James immediately leapt into an explanation of the school fire drill that had turned out not to be a drill. Al squirmed down from Ginny's lap to run over and add his version of events, and the three of them were quite distracted when the owl arrived for Ginny.

It was a very bedraggled and bad-tempered owl, but she recognized it and took the message without demur. It read: _Dear Gin, Tell me where I should bring your ~~adorable~~ completely spoiled daughter. Are you all right? Would be eaten up with worry if every moment wasn't running after your imp. Think she must have been switched with a pixie in the cradle. Be sure to tell me what Fred and I did to Percy on your tenth birthday in your reply. Love, George_

Gin picked up a quill from the desk and wrote in reply, _Dear George, Please bring Lily directly to the Ministry. They're not allowing us to go home. And do come yourself. I will never forget the day you made Percy's nose blink like a Christmas light for my own especial amusement. Love, Gin_

She tossed the owl out the window and watched Harry sit down on the tattered rug to talk to the boys, face solemn. She leaned on her elbows and smiled, just a little.

***

The boys were tucked into the "doss room" in the Auror headquarters (Ginny: "You _sleep_ here?" Harry: "Only when we can't avoid it...") and Matilda fetched take-out food from Muggle London. Ginny noticed her chastened, nearly cringing attitude and when she and Harry were seated awkwardly on either side of a desk, eating lamb tikka masala and palak paneer, she asked about it.

"Is Matlida in trouble?"

"What?" asked Harry, looking in the takeout bag for more naan. "Oh, no. Nigel's in a spot of trouble, of course." He spoke with irony: his department, as far as Ginny could tell, used that expression solely for situations in which other people would resort to military language.

"Ah," said Ginny, and had a sip of the vile sludge that passed for coffee in the Ministry.

Harry located the naan, put the foil-wrapped package on the desk, and proceeded to ignore it. "So," he said. "Um. How are the boys doing in school?"

Ginny frowned, poked her fork into her container, and set it aside. "What aren't you telling me?"

Harry looked up, wide-eyed. "Gin, what-- what?"

"Harry, I lived with you for eleven years, and for five of those I was married to you. I can tell when you've got something on your mind." Ginny glared across the desk at him.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Ginny, irritated and amused in equal measure, reached across the desk and removed the sticky plastic fork from that hand. "Is it the Ministry? Is there some other intrusion they're going to force on me because of--"

She sat back down again and leaned her forehead on her hand. "I can't think about it. Who would do such a thing?"

She heard Harry sigh, and the creak of his chair and his footsteps as he walked around the desk. The weight of his hand on her shoulder was tentative. There was something helpless about the way he was standing there, and it made her tense with fear.

"Gin," he said. "At the school. There were two girls in the toilets. A first-year and a third-year."

"Oh, sweet mercy," whispered Ginny. She looked up and read the answer to her question before she managed to force it past her lips. "Did they manage to--?"

He shook his head.

***

"Ginny, you can't do this!"

Ginny whirled around and glared at the fireplace. "Explain to me in what manner my actions are physically impossible." She spoke softly; the children were out in the shop and she didn't want them overhearing.

"You know what I mean," said Harry. "You can't take the children so far away-- a different language and everything, and--"

"They'll learn it faster than I will, I'm sure," said Ginny.

"Ginny, please!"

Ginny walked up to the hearthrug and stood on it, looking down at Harry's pleading face. "I will not be responsible for the deaths of any more children. _I will not._ In Romania, no one knows us or cares."

"I know, but--"

Ginny cut him off. "It's not like you'll never see us again. You can come visit. That is not impossible, unless you have lost the use of your wand, and if you have, I am perfectly happy to pick you up at the train station."

Harry looked devastated. "You'll be so far away."

"I know," said Ginny, looking towards the door. "Believe me, I know."

There was a silence from the fireplace, then Harry said, "I think you want to go as far away as you can."

Ginny replied without looking back at him, "Everything I want is here, Harry. My family is here. My life is here. But I can't have it -- not with the press trying to climb in every window and now crazy people trying to kill James and Al. If I have to go to the moon in order to get a little peace, so be it."

Harry didn't reply, and when she looked back at the fire, he was gone.

George came in a few moments later as she was organizing the files. "I left your threesome with Araminta. She's supposed to be counting stock, but she's much happier playing with your kids." He sighed. "I never thought of myself as a family man, Gin, but your brood have made me change my mind."

Ginny grinned at him. "Have you got the lucky girl in mind, then?"

"Oh, he does!" remarked the portrait of Fred over the fireplace.

"That's between you and me!" said George, but he looked pleased. Then he looked at Ginny more soberly. "Look, Gin, do you have go? So far, and it's upset Mum dreadfully. It's upset Dad, too, although you know he doesn't show it so much, and I've got so used to having you and your kidlets about..."

"You know I have to go," said Ginny. "It could be your shop next time."

"That's nothing," said George. "You think Fred and I didn't think of that? Gin, we built our business up during the war!"

"I know," said Ginny. "But the schools didn't, nor the muggle shops we might go into, or all the people we pass on the street. We have to go."

George sighed.

"Promise you'll come and visit," she said. "And of course we'll be back for Christmas."

***

"Mum," said Lily, clinging to Ginny's robes, "Mum, Al says we're going to the moon."

"No, we're going to visit your Uncle Charlie in Romania. You remember Uncle Charlie, right? He works with dragons."

"There are dragons on the moon?"

Al hung on the edge of the doorframe, looking pleased with himself and Ginny couldn't help giving him a long stare. He grinned.

***

 _Dear Harry,_

 _You will be unsurprised to hear that James received his Hogwarts letter today. He's so excited that I haven't had the heart to tell him that I have already written to Madame Clavel regarding Beauxbatons. I know quite well where he has gotten all these school stories from!_

 _What to do? I know your answer already; you want to see him at Hogwarts. You want him to continue the tradition of you and your parents (and, I suppose, me and my parents). I think also that you want to give him the same kind of experience that you had there._

 _We can't do that, of course. Everyone's experience is different. I suppose there must also be students who hate going to Hogwarts and wish there were other options. I confess that I was not one of them._

 _There's a part of me that wants to send him there, simply because it is such an important place to me-- but because it is important to me does not mean that it will be important to him._

 _I don't know what to do._

 _Will it be safe for him there? The Ministry never cleared up the matter of the school attacks from before we left._

 _He wants to go. I don't want to disappoint him._

 _Write back and tell me what you think. Not what you feel, Harry, what you think. _

_Sincerely,_

 _Ginny_

 _***_

 _Dear Ginny,_

 _I have been to see the Headmistress today. She assures me that if Hogwarts could protect me from Voldemort, it can protect James from any number of troublemakers._

 _I tried to think about it, Gin, but I can't get over the feeling -- the gut feeling -- that Hogwarts is where he belongs. I don't think we should deprive him of it._

 _Give my love to James and Al and Lily and tell them I'll come next week. I'm very sorry, by the way, that I couldn't make it for James's birthday. Work._

 _\--Harry_

 _***_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I can remember a few memorable occasions on which Hogwarts spectacularly failed to protect you from Voldemort._

 _Perhaps I should have a chat with the Headmistress myself._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Ginny_

 _***_

 _Dear Ginny,_

 _I think those were exceptional circumstances. And, after all, Voldemort is dead now, right?_

 _Hogwarts didn't kill me, anyway, so I think James can manage._

 _\--Harry_

 _***_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Exactly my point._

 _Voldemort is dead, and therefore there is no reason for our son to be risking his life merely to get an education._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Ginny_

 _***_

 _Gin--_

 _That wasn't what I was saying! I just meant that surely there's got to be less risk now, right?_

 _You can't honestly think that I would run risks with our children, can you? After all this time? I've changed, Gin._

 _I can't bear the thought of James going to Beauxbatons._

 _Please, Gin._

 _\--Harry_

 _***_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I've been to Hogwarts and spoken with the Headmistress. She was, I must say, much more reassuring than you have been._

 _I've also discussed this with James, and he is dead set on going to Hogwarts despite -- or perhaps because of -- the whiff of danger. I detect a bit of his Dad in him in that._

 _I want you to know that I have tried very hard to think about this dispassionately, for what is best for James, rather than what you or I want. The Headmistress was very helpful._

 _I handed her the permission letter in person. James will be enrolling in the autumn._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Ginny_

 _***_

 _Dear Gin,_

 _I knew you'd do the right thing!_

 _\--Harry_

***

Ginny threw the last letter into the fire, much to the disapproval of the owl that had carried it. "It must be nice," she said to no one in particular, "to be so sure that what you want is the right thing."

Outside the small whitewashed cottage the children were nominally picking tomatoes, but actually doing something which required much more in the way of argument. Ginny sighed, tidied her desk by the simple expedient of tossing most of the mail into the fire, and went into the kitchen to start chopping things for dinner.

James burst through the kitchen door not long after. "Mum, Mum! Now that I've got into Hogwarts I don't have to do my homework for the Scola doamna de la lake, do I?"

"Where on earth did you get that idea?" said Ginny. "Here, make the salad. That sounds like wishful thinking to me. If you don't keep your grades up, the Headmistress might send you another letter."

James looked so alarmed at that -- and Al looked so smug -- that Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Were you teasing your brother?" she asked the room in general, to a general denial.

"It's not fair," said Lily, around the carrot slice she had just shoved into her mouth, "but at least you don't get to skive off on your homework."

"Where's the bread delivery? Oh, here it is. Al, set the table. Lily, would you please put out the water and milk?" Ginny slid the pans into the oven and turned back to the stovetop. "I don't want to hear about anyone 'skiving off,' or I'll think your Uncle George is a bad influence on you."

"Wasn't Uncle George's idea," muttered Lily rebelliously, opening the icebox.

"I bet the homework for Hogwarts will be cooler, anyhow," said James to Lily's back.

Ginny snorted. "There'll be more of it. Does anyone want to run down the hill and get your Uncle Charlie?"

"No need," said Charlie, poking his head in the half-open kitchen door. "I've brought us a baklava."

Lily squealed and flung herself at Charlie, who laughed and said, "Careful, I'll drop it!"

"Can I go with you tomorrow to check the nests? Please please poftim poftim?" begged Lily.

"Well," said Charlie, looking a little harried, "If your mother says you may--"

"We'll discuss it later," said Ginny. "If Charlie can reassure me that you'll be safe you may go. Charlie, for heaven's sake put that down on the counter and sit down. I have your anti-fire charms all ready, by the way, you mustn't forget to take them when you go."

Ginny poured him some tea and the children, as usual before dinner, managed to find things to do all over the house. Ginny had to shout when dinner was ready, and wondered whether it wouldn't be more efficient simply to purchase a set of very small owls for household use.

James slid into his seat last, flushed and looking a little guilty. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him but decided that she would really rather not know whatever scheme he presently had going.

"Hey, did you know what happens to pumpkins when you pour that auto-cleaning potion on them?"

Charlie looked at James. "No... it never occurred to me to try to clean my pumpkins that way. What happens?"

"They turn this _really disgusting color!_ And Mum said--"

"Never mind what I said!" said Ginny. "James, we'd better go into the city and get some clothes for you, your shirt collar is ragged and I can't send you off to school like that."

Lily snorted into her napkin and James glowered. Ginny noted inwardly that the ragged marks on James's collar looked suspiciously like teeth and that there was a scorch mark that hadn't been there yesterday.

Al said, "When _I_ get _my_ Hogwarts letter--"

"What makes you think you'll get one, huh?"

"My grades are better than yours!"

James grinned. "They don't just look at grades."

Al took a deep breath, "When _I_ get _my_ Hogwarts letter, _I'm_ going to travel in style, you bet."

Lily said, dreamily, "I think I'd like to travel. Maybe I should get a Muggle car and drive all over. And I would take a raven with me to carry my messages."

James snorted. "You mean an owl."

Lily tilted her chin up. "I'd rather have a raven. They talk, you know."

James said, "They don't say anything real, they just repeat things. Owls are much smarter."

"I like ravens!"

"Ravens are dumb."

Ginny said, to Charlie, "More bread?" and to Al, "You're not eating your salad."

Al said, "I don't like salad, give mine to Lily."

"I don't see why I should have to eat your salad!"

"Well, we don't have a dog."

Lily drummed her fingers on the table and Al's next spoonful of food inexplicably went up his nose. He coughed and snorted and reached for his napkin. Ginny raised her eyebrows at Charlie, who grinned and shrugged. Ginny shook her head, dreading the day when her children got real wands.

"I think," said Lily, after some thought, "that I would rather go to the moon than Hogwarts. I mean, since my _brothers_ are going to be _there."_

***

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Thank you for the visit last week; the children all enjoyed it so much. I'm sorry about the dragonet incident; I can't think how it got under your bed (although I suspect Lily). I hope your Auror robes can be repaired. I thought Al did a nice job of fixing the hole in your trunk; I hope it held._

 _I was sorry to hear that the Ministry is going to keep you so busy for the rest of the summer. We had looked forward to seeing you for our annual vacation -- Italy, this year. The children are becoming quite the polyglots -- Lily's Italian is much better than mine, and as for James's French accent, to compare us is ludicrous! I hope you can join us for the summer hols next year. What do you think about Greece? We'll all be equally at a loss, language-wise._

 _In any case, I know you want to help us see James off. We'll be arriving a couple of days in advance and staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Book a room there, and we can buy James's books together and take him to the train._

 _I know he'll like that very much._

 _La revedere,_

 _Ginny_


End file.
